What came to me is how what we read here is like the wind with which we set our sails. On Sunday, I was at a Sensory Awareness workshop at Fort Mason in San Francisco. On the break, I was sitting on a bench where I could see three sailboats through a gap in the piers. The wind was howling as evidenced by the fog blowing through the Golden Gate Bridge, and yet, all three boats with sails up were absolutely still. The outgoing current, the outward pull of the tide, must have been strong enough that they were in a balance with wind and tides that allowed them to appear to sit there still.
This allowed me to feel a stillness within.
How do I balance wind and current that comes and swirls my way?
I think I balance on what I read here. Sometimes I comment, and sometimes not, but there is always something to which I respond, something which affects how I set my sails.
Last week, Chuck in my Toastmasters club spoke of an amazing experience he had in South Africa. He was diving and came face to face with a "right whale". The whale with an eye the size of Chuck's head connected with him in such a way that Chuck reached out to touch and then grab hold. He was given a ride by the whale. I have been enchanted with that story all week.
Last night I told Chuck how much his experience meant to me, how touched I was by it, and he led me to his car and gave me a copy of his book, An American Underwater Odyssey, 50 Dives in 50 States by Charles Ballinger. I woke early this morning, 4:30 and after meditating, opened it, and opened even more.
Where do we dive?
What do we allow to enter and stir and swim within?
Do we need to formally comment? Sometimes, and other times, we are the sea, river, lake, wind. It is enough to know we are here, and what we share will sometimes be an anchor or a pier, and other times, a simple flowing in and out.